Slow River
by NotMarge
Summary: Hers had been a long and winding journey. That was now coming closer to its end. And where would her end leave her boy, her Jimmy?


I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

Though it is my new dark fascination.

Slow River

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><p>Ethel the Bearded Lady sat in a rickety chair in an overgrown field alone, watching the slow moving river wind its lazy course away from her.<p>

It was quiet here. Quiet and peaceful.

She could sit here in the warm afternoon and feel the breeze cool across her furrowed brow, like gentle caresses from a lover.

She remembered those from so many years ago.

Back before the miseries, the complications, the ruinings.

She smiled a little at the memories.

The Bearded Lady.

She'd been a real showstopper on the stage.

Surrounding herself with the loveliest of girls.

Coquettishly awaiting her perfect moment.

And then gleefully stealing all the glory and attention away for herself.

With all the aplomb and dignity and flair she could muster.

And they'd _loved_ it.

They'd clapped and cheered and called for more.

Her. Her round, young physique and her lovely, curled flapper wigs, and her full, luxuriant beard.

They'd laughed as well, but it had been _good_ laughter. Laughter controlled by _her_.

And she'd soaked it all in, reveling in every minute of it.

Bright, glorious times.

Her distant smile faded a little as the memories rolled on, rolled on like the lazy river before her.

She's been so full of life and passion and fantastic possibility then.

Before him.

Dell.

He hadn't ruined it all in one fell swoop though. It had taken some time.

At first it had been great.

Dell in his leopard strong man costume and his curly handlebar mustache.

Smiling and charming and lifting things no mere mortal should ever be able to lift.

Her eyes had traveled over his muscular body and smiling, twinkling eyes.

And completely ignored the secrets hidden behind him.

He'd loved to tickle her beard and have her trail it . . .

She blushed a little at the thought and let it pass her old, used-up body by.

Never mind he'd spent most of his time away from her, not bothering to tell her where or what.

Never mind he seemed to prefer their intimates with her facing away from him, his fingers tangled in her beard.

She hadn't really minded. To each their own, she'd supposed.

At least he never tried to stick it anywhere it wasn't supposed to go.

Well, not after that one time.

She huffed in disgust and took another pull from her flask, eyes staring miles past the river.

There were some places things just didn't _go_.

She's told him if he ever tried it again, she'd cut it off while he was sleeping.

He'd been mad all right. Furious and dangerous. Shook her around a bit and stormed out.

She'd been a little worried he wouldn't return. But nothing was worth _that_ pain.

He had returned, eventually, drunk, slobbering, and apologetic.

And had fallen asleep on top of her.

She sighed forlornly.

There hadn't an overabundance of intimates between them after that.

But enough so she'd turned up pregnant.

That thought brought back her smile for a fleeting moment.

Jimmy.

Her boy.

Growing inside of her, unseen and unheard, she'd still thought of him often.

Excitement mixed with trepidation. Wondering what he'd look like, if he'd have any abnormalities, any deformities.

And still young enough to believe that even if he did, he'd be fine.

After all, she would be there to care for him, raise him, love him.

Her child.

Pretending everything was okay with Dell.

Dell, who was slowly ruining her career by having her spout off high-brow verse.

Complicated, pretentious clamor.

They'd hated it, the audience. They'd thrown things, yelled and booed. _She'd_ hated it.

And started hating _him_.

It had only gotten worse.

Temper. Cripes, he'd had a temper.

And she'd argued right back when he couldn't be sweet talked.

Oh, their rows had been legendary.

And when Jimmy'd been born, it'd only gotten worse.

Her hate and loathing of Dell had grown so thick she'd nearly choked on it time and again.

'Live Freak Birth'.

She wiped at her eyes, those tired eyes threatening to leak tears.

What could she have been _thinking_?

No, no, dying now. No time to lie to herself. No time left for that sort of thing.

She'd been listening to _Dell_.

And trying to make _money_.

Freaks used whatever they had to get by. To make it work.

And she'd had a baby.

So she'd used him.

Over and over again.

Screaming and moaning and pretending to be pushing him out.

Watching the hired women exclaim and wipe the blood off him.

Watching Dell hold him up and proclaim him to be a real live baby freak of nature.

The first time'd been real.

And she'd wept bitter, sick tears then.

After that, it had been cow's blood.

And her sick, bitter tears turning to disgust and hate on her cheeks.

The ruse had worked.

Oh, how it had worked.

Short lived as it had been.

After about a month, the rubes had begun to doubt the legitimacy of a newborn baby that size.

And Dell's temper had gotten worse, more dangerous than ever.

That last night had been the last straw.

Little Jimmy crying, crying, crying in his basket.

Jimmy with his undulating, screeching wail that could grate your nerves into jelly and keep on forever.

Even from the cradle, so to speak, it seemed he'd been discontent with his lot in life.

And Dell.

That bastard had snapped and lifted him up to kill her little baby boy.

It'd been over between them right then and there.

She'd pumped that shot into the chamber and put her finger on the trigger.

She'd have pulled it too, in a heartbeat, if he'd not put the baby down and walked away.

Ethel'd never seen him again.

And she'd moved on.

Taken care of Jimmy as best as she could.

Jimmy. Her boy.

She loved him.

Her lobster handed boy.

They'd scrounged and dragged and made it through.

And somewhere along the line, she'd started to lose her hope and turn rancorous.

The drink, once an enjoyable pastime, had been become her dark companion, her stronghold in the endless struggle and misery of life.

And Jimmy, her precious boy, had suffered for it.

Tears burned her eyes again.

She hadn't meant to.

And yet she had.

She'd lost him, her boy, taken away.

And her landed in jail.

Dark times, those had been.

When she thought nothing mattered. Not with her boy gone and her in the slam.

But then Elsa, the crazy German, had appeared.

Given her hope, given her purpose, given her a job.

Given her back her _boy_.

And earned Ethel's long suffering loyalty and fidelity.

Given them both a place in her freakshow.

And Ethel'd counted her blessings and made a home for herself.

And her boy.

She'd put down the drink and promised him she was done.

And she had been.

For the longest time.

And he'd been glad, relieved. She could see it in his deep, dark eyes.

And she'd kept going.

Sometimes life was sunshine and roses.

When it was, you soaked it up for all it was worth.

And when it wasn't, you buckled down and slogged through the mud.

And when the mud bogged you down and made you ache and hurt and regret, you _kept_ slogging.

And now, when her savior Elsa didn't seem as grounded in reality as she'd once been, seeming to be slipping into some sort of desperate hysteria, Ethel was sticking it out.

And Jimmy with his handsome face and smiles and dreams.

Grinning and teasing one minute, angry and resentful the next.

Already so much like his father.

And already so much better.

And she didn't want him to fall away.

She was still there, offering support. Trying to guide him into being the leader, the good influence she knew he could be. Trying to walk that mother line between steering him and letting him find his own way.

Hoping and praying that he would find a way to make it, to be okay.

As much as a freak could.

It didn't have to be all bad, all pain and misery.

She hoped for him, anyway.

She was there. She would do and she would care. For as long as she could.

Which, according to the doctor, wasn't going to be too much longer.

Cirrhosis of the liver. Couldn't be stopped.

She sighed, taking another swig from the flask.

He'd told her not to.

But what did it matter now?

She would die.

Months only.

And then she would die and leave Jimmy to make his way through this world alone.

Jimmy, who had the face of God's own angels. The hands of a freak.

And a heart so big everybody could see it. Like a target on a tree stump.

Her boy.

She just wanted him to be _okay_.

And didn't know if he would be.

But where was there to turn?

Who was there to depend on?

She clenched her jaw, feeling the wiry hairs there bristle.

As much as she didn't want to, she needed to talk to him.

Him.

Dell.

Landed right in the middle of it all, like a shot from the blue.

The man she swore she'd never speak to again, except to warn away from her boy.

Now the only person she felt she might be able to turn to.

Dell had a temper. He knew it. He'd spent his life running away from the messes his tempers caused.

Jimmy had a temper. Like his father.

But a better heart. So far anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, if Dell could guide him around some of the pitfalls he'd rushed blindly into, Jimmy could avoid them and be okay in the end.

It was a slim hope.

But it was the only one she could conjure up.

And so Ethel Darling, the old Bearded Lady, sat and watched the river.

And took another tug from her flask.

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><p><strong>Oh my sweet Christmas, Kathy Bates is sooooo amazing! (And originally from Memphis, Tennessee, I might add. Woot-woot!) She can make me laugh like a fool or tear my heart out of my chest. Sometimes she does both at once.<strong>

**Well, anyway, that's another AHS:FS plot bunny down. Let's see, what's next? Hmm, okay. I got one. ;)**

**Thanks to iWritexx for a great review!**

**Thanks to MakaOraLovesDestiel for adding your support to this tale as well.**

**Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


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